The day after Yuki’s discovery, word at last came from Kyoto, sanctioning the Prince of Owari’s adoption of his kinsman as son and heir. After that, little time was required to comply with law and custom. The opposition of the Mito faction was paralyzed by the sanction of the Mikado. It was a striking instance of the paradoxical nature of the government of this strange land.

In theory, the Mikado was the sacred and absolute Emperor, and the Shogun only the first among his secondary class of nobles. In fact, he was little more than a figurehead in the hands of the Shogunate, and his sanction of government measures was usually given as a matter of course. A strong Shogun, such as Iyeyoshi, could even enforce compliance against the wishes of so powerful an opposition as the Mito party backed by the reluctance of the kuge, or Kyoto nobles. Yet without the Mikado’s sanction, however obtained, the Shogun would have become a rebel, with no other means than sheer military force to hold in subjection the great non-Tokugawa daimios.

One may well imagine the chagrin of the Mito faction over their failure to block my official adoption as the heir of Owari, and their fury when they learned of the Prince’s retirement in my favor. Last of all, the discovery that the Shogun was about to announce his decision in favor of a temporary treaty with the hairy barbarians must have goaded them to madness.

The final ceremony of my accession to the title and position of Prince of Owari was an audience by the Shogun. Before this, in the presence of the counsellors and other high officials of the clan,—many of whom had journeyed from the Province of Owari for the occasion,—my adopted father had abdicated his office of clan chief, and I had received the homage of the samurais. The day appointed for my formal audience was August the twenty-fifth.

Though surfeited with the irksome etiquette and honors of my exalted rank, I looked forward to the audience with keenest impatience. The Prince—as I shall continue to call him—had assured me that it was the last step in my elevation, and vastly more important than my marriage. To me it was important only because it must precede my marriage.

As a necessary result of the ascent that brought me within reach of my silvery moon,—my all but unattainable Princess,—I could endure and even welcome the austere state of my exalted position. Of itself, however, there was no relish to me in the homage of my clan, and far less in the thought of rendering homage to my lord the Shogun. My princely rank was a ceremonial strait-jacket which bound me about with countless rules of etiquette and restricted my every act and word to certain prescribed forms. To a man who was not to the manner born, the result was little short of torture.

Yet I would gladly have endured even greater discomfort for the sake of winning Azai. The vision of her pure and lovely face was before my eyes night and day. It sustained me throughout the dreary hours of ceremonies, and appeared beside the serene face of Yoritomo when I made the required offerings and prayers before the memorial tablets of the family shrines.

At last the day appointed for my audience arrived. I was roused long before dawn, and my little lady mother herself came to overlook every detail of my costume. By dawn my lantern-illumined cortege, marching with all the solemn parade of a state progress, had crossed the official quarter to the Sakaruda Gate.

With me were the clan counsellors and a powerful guard of retainers in full armor. Yuki had reported too fully upon the virulent wrath of the Mito men for us to chance an attack unprepared. But Yuki was not with me, though I had chosen him to lead my escort. I was concerned for his safety, for he had gone out on another of his spying ventures, and had not returned when expected.

At the Sakaruda Gate those of my escort who wore armor remained outside the citadel. I was carried through in my norimon, accompanied by my counsellors and chamberlains, my standard bearers, and other ceremonial attendants with led-horses and paraphernalia. But when we arrived before the Gejo Gate, the state entrance to the Inner Castle, I was required to leave my norimon and cross the bridge of the inner moat afoot, escorted only by a few of my highest retainers. The Abbot of Zozoji, who was a prince of the Mikado’s family, alone could ride in through the Gejo Gate. That honor was denied even the heads of the August Three Families, the highest of all the daimios.

Within the gate I crossed a court to the grand portico of the palace, where I was met by Gengo and another of the court chamberlains. Even my counsellors kowtowed to these servants of the Shogun, who in turn kowtowed to me. Trailing their court trousers behind them, they conducted me to a waiting-room, where I was served with powdered tea gruel, and attired in court hat, gauze-winged jacket, and seven-foot court trousers of yellow silk. After the refreshment, I left my attendants and was conducted by Gengo and his fellow chamberlain along a hall lined with kowtowing retainers, and past an anteroom in which five or six score daimios of the lower rank knelt in profound silence. Shortly beyond we came to the raised threshold of the audience hall. My ushers kowtowed and crept in on hands and knees. I followed in the same abject posture. It was the custom of the country and the price I must pay for Azai.

The throne was a square lacquered stool, placed upon a dais two feet high. Though the Shogun was dressed with no more richness than on the occasions of my informal audiences, the stateliness of his appearance was vastly increased by this simple throne and the mat curtain that hung down before him to the level of his bell-shaped hat. On his left, three or four yards down the room, kowtowed Midzuano and the other members of the Elder Council. Behind the dais a number of hatamotos knelt with their hands upon their swordhilts as if in the act of springing up to attack me.

At the prescribed distance from the throne my ushers parted for me to creep forward between them and kowtow in homage to my lord. The hush was oppressive. I waited, prostrate, until a faint sibilation from the courtiers told me that the Shogun had given the signal for my withdrawal. My audience was at an end. Without raising my head, I crept around and out the way I had come, in the wake of my abject ushers.

Upon my return to the waiting-room I was served a banquet of nearly a hundred dishes. I could do no more than taste my favorite dish of each course, after which all were set aside by the attendants, to be taken to Owari Yashiki. An hour passed, and my solitary feast was fairly under way, when Gengo entered and bowed before me, with a flask of sake held above his forehead.

“From the Tycoon to the Prince of Owari,” he murmured.

I kowtowed. “Humble thanks are offered for the gift of the august ruler!—Let the wine be heated.”

“It is the wish of His Highness that the Prince test the flavor of the sake both cold and hot,” replied the chamberlain, as he handed the flask to an attendant.

I bowed assent. “The will of His Highness is the pleasure—”

“Stay, my lord!” called a voice in the entrance. “Cold sake is not always wholesome.”

At the first word I had glanced down the room and perceived Yuki standing erect on the threshold. The attendants stared about at him, no less astonished than myself. His dress was disarranged, and his look so strange that at first I thought he had been over-drinking. Fujimaro spoke to him warningly, and he sank down to kowtow. No drunken man could have saluted in such manner. The truth flashed upon me.

“Approach,” I commanded. “You bring a message?”

He sprang up, with a sharp exclamation: “Look! The fox has gone!”

I looked about, and saw that Gengo had disappeared. In the moment’s pause when all eyes were fixed upon the kneeling Yuki, the chamberlain had glided to the side wall and slipped out. Yuki came swiftly up the room through the midst of the palace attendants, and pointed to the man with the flask of sake.

“Do not open the flask!” he commanded, and he knelt to offer me a tattered, crumpled scroll. “The geisha, my lord—To the Shogun! Demand that Gengo drink this sake!”

I bent forward to whisper a question: “You suspect poison?”

“Not alone for my lord! Hasten! I fear the worst! Keiki and Midzuano—Gengo the tool—”

But I was already up and crossing the room.

“Bring the sake flask!” I commanded. “Conduct me to the Shogun. I must see the Shogun at once!”

Some of the attendants murmured protests. But their superior had caught the alarm. He signed to the man with the sake flask, and led us swiftly out into the corridor and up it past the audience hall. The Shogun had retired to more private apartments. We hastened on through a suite of rooms. Suddenly a palace guard blocked our way. My escort whispered to him excitedly. The guard stepped aside.

We entered an anteroom and glided hastily across through the midst of the waiting attendants. At the upper wall we were again halted, while my request for an immediate audience was sent in to the Shogun. I waited in an agony of suspense. One moment after another dragged past. Unable to endure the uncertainty, I thrust my finger through the screen, and peered in. The official to whom my request had been whispered still crouched on the opposite side of the screen, waiting for the Shogun’s signal to advance.

I stared up the room to where Iyeyoshi sat at ease between Midzuano and the Daimio of Satsuma. As I looked, Gengo glided in with a tea bowl upon a tray, and knelt to present the drink to his lord. The suspicion of his hideous purpose struck me dumb with horror. The Shogun reached out and lifted the bowl from the tray. At that my hands spoke for my stricken tongue. I flung aside the screen that was before me and threw out my arm in a warning gesture. Iyeyoshi paused with the bowl at his lips, and stared at me in frowning resentment. I pointed downward. The Shogun glanced from me to the cringing figure of Gengo. Instantly he dashed the bowl and its contents into the face of the chamberlain.

No man of samurai blood might endure such an insult even from the Sei-i-tai Shogun. The poisoner flared out in mad fury. With amazing swiftness he drew a dirk and bounded upon Iyeyoshi. The Shogun flung himself to one side. But Gengo struck with deadly aim. His dirk plunged down through the base of the Shogun’s neck the full twelve inches of the blade.

With a roar of fury, Satsuma leaped up to catch the dying man and interpose his own body for the second stroke. But Gengo was already springing back, well aware that the one blow had done the awful deed. We were already rushing in, my companions shrieking for the guards. Midzuano sat as if turned to stone. Gengo dropped down almost beside the Counsellor, to make an end of himself. The murderer was samurai bred. Swiftly as I rushed forward, I could not seize him in time to stay his dirk from the fatal cross stroke. He sank prostrate on his face, groaning.

From all sides hatamotos with bared swords rushed in, drawn by the shrieks for help. As I knelt with Satsuma beside our dead lord, Midzuano leaped up and pointed to us, with a terrible cry: “Strike! The Shogun is slain! Kill the traitors!”

An instant’s hesitancy and we should have been hacked in pieces by the upraised swords. Satsuma sprang to his feet, his great form swelling with wrath, his heavy face dark with menace. Without a word, he pointed one hand at the dying assassin and the other at Midzuano.

“Strike!” commanded the Chief Counsellor, and his dull eyes lighted with cold malevolence.

“Strike!” echoed Satsuma, still pointing.

The hatamotos glared at us in deadly rage, yet stood motionless, checked by the power of the great Daimio. I rose beside him, and signed to the attendant with the sake flask. He pointed to the dying chamberlain, and called loudly: “Midzuano lies! Gengo is the traitor. He first brought this flask to the Prince of Owari; then came to serve the Shogun. His Highness had cause to suspect poison. He flung the bowl into the face of the traitor, who drew and struck.”

“The Counsellor is challenged to drink from the flask brought to me by Gengo,” I added.

“They are all traitors.—Kill them together!” cried Midzuano.

I held out Kohana’s scroll to the nearest hatamoto, with a laconic command: “Read!”

The man took the blotched writing and began to read, while all in the room bent to listen. “‘Kwannon direct this safely into the hands of a loyal samurai! Evil traitors plot to poison the Shogun and the Prince of Owari, on the day that the Prince goes to the palace. They cannot endure that His Highness should favor a treaty with the barbarians. Gengo is their tool. All the daimios in the conspiracy are not known to the writer, but the names of the leaders are, first—’”

With a sudden clutch, Midzuano plucked the scroll out of the hand of the hatamoto and thrust it into his bosom.

“The Chief of the Elder Council commands at such a crisis,” he proclaimed with astounding effrontery. “It is not expedient to publish the names of the criminals until they have been apprehended. Let the Council be summoned to meet me at my yashiki.”

Even Satsuma was disconcerted by such consummate assurance and audacity. Before either of us could recover wit enough to utter a protest, the Counsellor passed through the midst of the hatamotos and out of the hall. But though he went unopposed, his going was none the less in effect a retreat. Freed from his malign influence, the hatamotos at once yielded to the spell of Satsuma’s magnetism and power. The great Daimio pointed to the body of Gengo, which no longer writhed on the mats.

“Tokugawa men,” he called in his deep and sonorous voice, “you have heard. There lies the tool of the traitors who seek the overthrow of the Shogunate. I charge the Chief Counsellor with complicity. Minamoto Iyeyoshi has gone from us without benefit of medicine. Let Minamoto Iyesada the Shogun be notified of his accession to the rulership. All men have faith in the loyalty and wisdom of Abe Ise-no-kami and Ii Kamon-no-kami. Send for them, that they may advise His Highness.”

“The loyalty of Satsuma is undoubted,” called one of the court officials. “He also should advise Iyesada Sama.”

“That is for Abe and Ii. My task is to check the plot of the traitors. Obey no orders from Midzuano and the Council of Elders unless approved by Iyesada Sama. Let all gates of the citadel and the inner moat be doubly guarded. Announce only that Iyeyoshi Sama has been wounded by a traitor. I go to watch the yashiki of the Chief Counsellor. Until I have received the commands of the Shogun, no man shall enter or leave the gate of Midzuano. There is need for utmost haste!” He turned to fling out his hand over the bloody corpse of Iyeyoshi—“Vengeance upon the traitors!”

“Vengeance!” shouted the hatamotos, and they rushed from the room in fierce eagerness to obey the Daimio’s directions. Satsuma signed for me to accompany him, and as we hastened out, unattended, he gave me my orders with courteous indirectness: “Ii is with us; Abe at least neutral. Keiki and Midzuano are the hands of old Mito. Without them he cannot strike. I will seek to hold Midzuano.”

“Owari will hold Keiki if the Mito men do not overwhelm us!” I responded.

“Old Mito will either strike at once, or draw in his claws and wait for another opening. Announce that Iyeyoshi has been wounded by a Mito man. That will rally to us the greater number of the three hundred thousand samurais who have flocked to Yedo.”

“Wounded?—And slain?” I said.

“Only wounded. The city must be kept in doubt until sanction of Iyesada’s accession has been received from the Mikado. It will be well for your august father to join his counsel to that of Abe and Ii.—Here is your waiting-room.”

I nodded farewell, and darted into the banquet room, where my retainers sat in decorous quiet, keenly alert to the stir and commotion that desecrated the solemn hush of the palace, yet all unaware of its terrible cause. I told them that, instigated by the Mito faction, my would-be poisoner had wounded the Shogun, a deed worthy of the days of the Ashikaga Shoguns.

Silencing their horrified outcries with a gesture, I gave my seal to Yuki, and commanded him to ride at full speed to Owari Yashiki and bring a force to assist me in the blockade of Keiki’s residence. He rushed out without an instant’s delay, while I followed with the utmost haste that my princely dignity would permit.